


The Meat It Feeds On

by ionthesparrow



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Horror, Jealousy, M/M, Pittsburgh Penguins, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 23:43:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10320275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ionthesparrow/pseuds/ionthesparrow
Summary: He tries to catch Olli





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emperorpenguin (dortmundbvbbabe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dortmundbvbbabe/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I Don't Like Your Boyfriend, Baby](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9777191) by [emperorpenguin (dortmundbvbbabe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dortmundbvbbabe/pseuds/emperorpenguin). 



> This is a remix of emperorpenguin's [I Don't Like Your Boyfriend, Baby](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9777191). Many thanks to them for letting me take a swing at it :) A thank you as well to the Kamikaze Hockey Remix challenge mods for their excellent work organizing things, and to A. for looking this over <3
> 
>  
> 
> Content Warnings: themes of horror

* * *

 

He tries to catch Olli before he goes, but Olli slips out, calling over his shoulder, “I’m busy tonight – rain check?” 

“No problem,” Justin yells after him. He raises a hand, but Olli has already turned away. Justin lets his hand fall back to his side. They’re friends, but that doesn’t mean they have to always hang out. Standing at the doorway, Justin catches his lip between his teeth. Just because Olli’s been busy lately, there’s no need to get petulant about it. They’re friends – and that should be enough. 

Olli is a bright spot growing smaller in the shadows of the parking garage. The fluorescent lights give his hair a greenish hue. He’s moving at a good clip, like he’s got somewhere to be, maybe someone to meet, that he’s excited about. 

Justin tucks his hands in his pockets, thinking about Olli's wide smile, his laughing eyes, that shock of blond hair forever sticking up, the curl of his grin offered freely to everyone. Justin watches him until the last second, until Olli turns the corner, and even the sound of his footsteps fade. Justin wouldn’t ever want anything to pollute that brightness. He shakes himself, walks to his own car, and if the corners and shadows seem darker and denser without the possibility of Olli to brighten them, then probably the best thing to do is to not notice. 

He goes to bed early that night, having no plans and no company to keep him out. 

It is the last night that he does not dream. 

 

 

An early spring and no morning skate means Justin treats himself to breakfast at the place around the corner. On his way home, he stops to admire the daffodils, fresh green shoots coming up thick and hopeful in the planters that line the street outside his apartment building. The air is full of the clean smell of the rain that fell overnight. The whole city feels freshened. Soon everything that’s just dark, damp earth will sprout a glistening green veneer. He tosses a wave at Scott as he enters – lots of the younger guys on the team live in this building. 

It’s good to stay close. 

Justin crosses the lobby, swaps keys and coffee over to one hand to hit the button for the elevator. He glances up from his coffee at the ding of arrival, and freezes. 

Olli is inside, and next to him, around him, enveloping him, is an oily, moving shadow. The floor of the elevator car is hidden under a writhing mat of twisting, coiling tentacle-like limbs, hissing as they slide past each other. One has twined around the handrail, leaving it coated with a slick, green ichor. In the corner, the body of the thing slumps, a pulpy, oozing, uncertain shape. Something not made to be exposed to light or air. The smell of rot and brine spills out into the lobby. Justin can just make out the glint of what could be teeth, of what might be some twisted, gaping mouth. And in the center of the mass, something dark steadily pulses. 

One of those tentacle-like arms is wrapped around Olli’s wrist, and the delicate, tapered end of it curls around his pinkie finger, flicking lightly, as if tasting his skin. 

Justin cannot be seeing this. This is not real. He is asleep, and this nightmare shadow is something dreamed. Or is a hallucination: the product of a too-long season and too much stress. 

“Justin?” Olli asks, a concerned lilt in his voice. 

Justin says, “I think I’ll take the stairs.” 

 

 

He reaches his apartment out of breath and slams the door behind him. Then he throws the deadbolt for good measure. Compulsive shivers wrack his whole body, and Justin leans his forehead against the door, eyes squeezed shut, trying to shake that creeping sense of dread, trying to catch his breath. 

A long season. A long season, with lots of pressure. His nerves are stained. He’ll take today to hang out and de-stress. Take an extra long nap. He’ll be fine. 

A knock at the door makes him jump back. 

Justin checks the peephole. Olli is in the hallway. Alone. 

He throws open the door. Olli looks fine. Same as he ever looks, faultless blue eyes, a wry expression curving his mouth. If anything, he looks concerned about Justin. 

“Hey,” Justin breathes. 

Olli’s eyes narrow. “Hey. I wanted to come up because – you looked sort of upset. Down in the lobby.” 

“Yeah, well.” Justin runs a hand through his hair, stalling for some excuse that won’t make him sound like he’s losing it. “Sorry. I just – ” 

“Look,” Olli interrupts. “He’s my boyfriend.” His chin lifts. “We’re together.” 

A terrible cold leeches into Justin’s blood. He can’t form words. 

“It’s not like a big secret,” Olli continues. “It’s just – new. But, he’s important to me. And you’re my friend, and so – ” He trails off, looking away for a second before his eyes meet Justin’s again. “So I wanted you to know.” 

Justin can’t hold his gaze. He looks at the twisting patterns in the carpet, at the pallid green walls, anywhere but at Olli. “How?” He manages. “How can you be together? It’s not – can it even speak?” 

“English isn’t my first language and we still manage to be friends.” There’s heat in Olli’s voice now. “Or at least I thought we were.” 

“But – ” Justin stumbles, the image of those coiling, slippery limbs is still so fresh, glistening and reaching, the sweet-salty smell of rot, that echoing, shuddering, dark pulse. 

“He’s smart. He’s funny. He makes me happy. We have a lot in common.” Olli shakes his head, tight and angry. “I wanted you to know because I wanted you to be happy for me, but you know what? Fuck it.” He walks away. 

In his head, Justin calls out for Olli to wait. But the words never actually leave his lips, not until long after Olli has left. Not until Justin has laid down in his bed that night, until after he’s closed his eyes. 

He jolts, shaken awake by a nightmare. The streetlights outside filter in, giving his bedroom a soft, aquarium light, and only in those glaucous shadows does he, still half-dreaming, call Olli’s name out loud. Only when Olli is not there to hear him, and the only answer is the anxious, dark thud of his own heart. 

 

 

Olli keeps his distance from Justin at their next post-practice meal, but whatever offense Justin gave, it doesn’t keep Olli from looking happy. 

“I heard you’re seeing someone?” Rusty reaches across Conor, making a grab for the ketchup. His words are in the pointedly casual tone of someone very, very interested in the answer. 

Olli ducks his head, but even from the other end of the table, Justin can see the smile stealing across his face. 

“So?” Conor drags the word out, not bothering to make even a pretense of disinterest. “Tell us about him.” 

Olli says he has fourteen limbs, the longest of which is twenty-three feet. Olli says he has two layers of reticulated fangs, sharp as a razor shell, hard as diamond. That the largest of his suction cups are the size of Olli’s palms, and the smallest are too small to see. Olli says he’s been around the world. That he’s been to the deepest points of all five oceans and all seven seas. Olli says he knows countless lightless secrets. That he moves through shadows. 

Olli says, “I call him Goliath.” 

 

 

It becomes much easier to simply not sleep. 

 

 

Goliath shows up at practice the next week. Justin keeps imagining movement in the shadows out of the corner of his eye. He thinks it’s the exhaustion – his eyelids feel like sandpaper, his limbs like lead. Until he finally sees a solid flicker and a streak of oozing green left on the glass. 

“What is it doing here?” He demands. 

Olli looks shocked, and even the faces of the other players cloud. Fleury shakes his head and looks away. 

Conor frowns at him. “Just because you’re being a dick about it and avoiding Olli doesn’t mean we have. Goliath is cool. He’s been coming out with us. I thought it’d be fun for him to see practice.” He pauses, staring daggers at Justin. “That’s a thing people do when they care about each other, you know. They support each other.” 

“Yeah,” Justin snaps. “The operative word is _people._ He’s not people.” 

“Jesus Christ.” Conor looks disgusted. He walks away. 

That’s the cue for the rest of the team to ignore him. They head for the locker room in a terse silence, until strained conversations pop up around him, pointedly ignoring him, excluding him. A sick heat churns through Justin’s guts. That’s fine. He’s been here before. He’s survived. 

 

 

By the time he finishes dressing – he’s slow because he wants to avoid people, and because the exhaustion makes his hands shake – Sid is the only one left in the room. Sid is pretending to fuss over his equipment, sorting through something, and when he can’t keep up that pretense any longer, he makes a great show of carefully wiping his hands clean on a paper towel. 

He’s clearly waiting on Justin. 

Justin gives in by dropping into the seat in his stall and turning, with a sigh, to face Sid. 

“Listen,” Sid says. “We need to talk.” 

“Talk then,” Justin says. 

Sid sighs. He raises his eyes from where he’s working the paper towel between his fingers to look at Justin. “We’re all different. We’re all into different things. We all live different lives. But we’re a team. And as a team, we support each other, despite all that.” 

“Sid, he’s – ” 

“Just because something isn’t right for you, doesn’t mean it’s not right for somebody else.” Sid’s voice is solemn. “Look, I know you’ve bounced around a little bit, but we’re glad you’re here. You’re part of our family. We support you and I’m asking you to support Olli. You think you can do that?” 

A stone catches in Justin’s throat. A flicker of uncertainty. Maybe he has lost sight of the fact that no matter what else, Olli is still his friend. “Sorry if I’ve been a dick.” 

“Not me you need to apologize to.” Sid fixes him with a look. He stands, wads and arcs the paper towel toward the trash. It falls just short. He sighs, gives Justin a shrug. “Guess that’s why I’m not a basketball player.” He studies Justin. “Get out of here. Get some sunshine. Walk it off. Go track down Olli and straighten this out, okay?” 

“Yeah. I can do that.” 

Sid throws him a mock salute and leaves. 

Justin sighs. He gathers the rest of his things. On his way out the door, he bends down to pick up the towel Sid air-balled and throw it away, careful not to touch any of the streaks of green. 

 

 

The sun is out, and it does feel good on his skin. All the people he sees out on the streets are smiling, glad to be outside in the way those first warm days of spring make everyone. He watches people walk their dogs. He watches parents push strollers and couples stroll the sidewalks hand in hand. In the daylight, all his horrors seem very far away, and it is suddenly hard to remember why he was so worked up. Maybe Sid is right. Maybe Justin himself was right when he thought all he needed was to relax. For an outside opinion, he calls Taylor. He listens to it ring for long enough that when Taylor finally picks up, Justin says, “Were you asleep?” 

“What? No.” Taylor sounds distracted, but then, Taylor is always distracted. 

“I’m trying to figure out if I’m being crazy about something.” 

Taylor snorts. “Knowing you, probably.” 

Justin hesitates. “Olli is dating this – guy – that I don’t like.” Out loud, the words sound very normal. Walking past striped awnings and rollerbladers, trees and dogs out on walks, the words sound harmless. 

Taylor yawns, his jaw making a loud cracking sound. “How’s everybody else feel about him?” 

“Fine,” Justin says. “That’s the thing – ” 

“Yeah, you’re crazy then.” Taylor yawns again. Justin can hear the sounds of him rolling over. 

Justin rolls his eyes. “This is serious. I’m worried about him. I care about him.” 

“Oh, you _care_ about him?” Taylor’s voice gives the word a pointed emphasis. “Wait – ” Justin hears him fumble something, followed by the sounds of typing. “Let me look up his insta.” A second later, Taylor chuckles, low. “Uh huh. I see why you _care_ so much.” Another pause. “This dude is boring as fuck. Does he have a private account?” 

“What? I don’t know – ” 

“You don’t know? What kind of stalker are you?” 

“I’m not a stalker.” Justin rolls his eyes. “That’s not what this is about.” 

There’s another pause, longer this time. Taylor asks, “Are you sure?” 

 

 

Despite the bright sun and the cool air, the walk to Olli’s apartment feels very long. Once inside, Olli’s hallway seems to stretch out before him, and anxiety once again begins to curdle Justin’s stomach. 

Olli answers Justin’s knock looking disoriented and tired, as though Justin had awoken him. His face, for once, is guarded. 

Justin shifts his weight back and forth, hands twisting. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ve been an asshole. I’m really sorry.” 

Olli’s head tips. He leans, propping himself in the doorway. 

Justin watches the ride of Olli’s sweats over his thigh. He looks at the curve of Olli’s throat. For a second, he thinks he may as well look, and look honestly, before he gets sent packing. Then he catches himself and makes himself look away. 

Olli shifts again, running a tired hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “Come in,” he says finally, and pads into the apartment, leaving Justin to shut the door behind him. 

Olli drops into a spot on the couch, and Justin perches at the other end. The apartment appears to be otherwise empty. “Goliath isn’t around?” 

Olli draws his hoodie closer around him. “No. He doesn’t ever stay in one place for very long.” 

This depressed version of Olli suddenly makes sense. Justin swallows. “I’m sorry.” Olli’s eyes cut over at him, skeptical, and Justin adds, “Really, I am. I know how much you liked him.” 

Olli’s shoulders lift in a fluid shrug. He casts another glance at Justin, shy this time. “I did really like having him around. It was exciting, and – ” He hesitates, as though uncertain whether Justin really wants to hear all this. “And like I said, we had things in common.” 

Justin’s chest feels tight. “It took me awhile to work out that part of why I reacted so badly was – I was jealous of somebody else dating you.” He swallows past the thick lump in his throat. “I know you probably don’t want to know this, and I’m probably a dick for telling you now, but – I wanted you to know the truth.” 

Olli is watching him now, intent. “You could have said something. A lot earlier.” There’s frustration in his voice. 

“I know.” Justin tries to shrug, but the muscles of his shoulders are tight and painful. He closes his eyes and digs the heels of his palms against his forehead instead. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“I liked you,” Olli hesitates. “But I didn’t know how you’d react if I told you. I didn’t know how – accepting you’d be.” 

Justin tries to laugh, but it comes out sounding choked and wet. He keeps his face hidden, and under his hands he can feel the burning sensation of briny tears pricking the corners of his eyes . “Yeah, well, I guess if nothing else, this whole Goliath thing has taught me to be more – open-minded.” 

The silence stretches what feels like a lifetime before Olli speaks. “Maybe I still like you,” he says, something like hope in his voice, a salve like a breath of cool air blown in from across the sea. 

And something very soft and very slick brushes against Justin’s cheek. 

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

>  _Beware, my lord, of jealousy; / It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock / The meat it feeds on._ Othello. 3.3.163-5.


End file.
